Casualties of War
by MiLady Oakenshield
Summary: COMPLETED! War casualties are inevitable. But when they are close to home, the loss is far too great to measure... MAJOR CANONICAL DEATH! First Hobbit fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Brothers in Arms**

Kili's heart hammered loudly in his chest, beating without mercy or care against his ribcage; like a great beast wandering the plans, or the collective sound of hooves drumming against the cold ground. His eyes had been far too virgin to the horrors and decimation of war, and had seen far too few of winters. Had it not been for the taking of Erebor some many years before his birth, he likely would not have been here now nor would he have been thrusted into the middle of such a bloody battle and if he had ever seen war, it would not have been like this.

Kili had been born into this already damned world, his family already scarred. He had never seen the halls of Erebor before and yet, with the way his uncle had described it, he felt as if he knew the Dwarf home like he knew the very details of his recurve bow. The stories Thorin and his company would tell.

Oh, Mahal. Thorin.

He had lost so much in his life, only to gain back so few. The remainder of his family were those in his company. His nephews, Fili and younger brother Kili, were all he had to call his own. He had watched the slaughter of his own grandfather, and the disappearance of his father. The husband to his sister had lost his life during a raid and poor Kili had not even been three months in his mother's womb. The young dwarf hadn't the pleasure of knowing his father.

Had it been his way, neither dwarf brother would have ever seen battle.

Blood and sweat glistened Kili's brow, and a gash that had opened over his left eye had spilled the red liquid down the side of his face. He was tired, and hungry, and above all achy. His bones and muscles screamed at him in every which way they could, crying for some type of relief. But the youngest of the dwarves pushed himself on. He did it for his company, and for Thorin. Though he couldn't help but take the briefest of moments to look around the battle field at the damage already done.

His sword dripped with blood in an endless river of death. Arrows fired from the bow pertruded from the torsos and heads of many orcs. Dead wargs littered the battle field. It was difficult to tell among the dead who had once belonged to his race and who did not. There was far more to think about than just the dwarves; there were men and elves too.

But he did not stop for long. As waves of orcs poured onto the field of red, Kili raised his weapon and cut them down one by one. And all through his arms were beyond exhausted, he dare not give in or allow Mahal to take him. He had a job, and a purpose, one that he'd be damned if he did not carry out.

As a warg and its rider came at him, the grip on Kili's sword tightened. The large beast lunged for him and the young dwarf, being far slimmer and agile than the rest, dropped to his knees and slid himself under the large beast, bending himself back as the warg cleared overhead. Seizing this chance, he plunged his sword upwards into the broad chest of the beast. The animal dropped, bucking the rider from its dead hide. As Kili climbed to his feet and turned to face the rider, the orc in question had sneered and gripped the handle of his weapon even tighter.

The orc charged the young dwarf and swung his blade out for Kili's neck. Kili ducked under the orc's blade then brought his own sword up, slashing at the orc's side. The orc fell to his knees and in a final blow, the young dwarf cleaved head from body.

He turned on a dime when a scream he found all too familiar rip through the death cries of both dwarves and men and elves alike. Through all that bloodshed and gore, he looked to the north and caught sight of uncle being run through with an orc blade. From where he stood, it was impossible to tell where Thorin's body had been pierced but easy enough to imagine, and Kili didn't need either for his feet to start running. And as the orc hovered over the body of Thorin Oakenshield, Kili pulled his bow from his back and notched an arrow. He took aim at the orc's head and fired. Being of perfect aim, the arrowhead embedded itself in the orc's skull and the foul creature dropped dead to the ground.

Thorin twisted his gaze around to see his youngest nephew coming towards him, the horror of the battle written on his bloodied and bruised face. He almost smiled—had it not been for the orc he did not see on his left. Before his brain could contemplate what had happened, an arrow had buried itself in Kili's chest. And then another.

"KILI!" Thorin cried, and somehow summoned enough strength to grab for his sword and strike the orc down. The blade dropped from his hands. He pushed his hands against the muddy and bloodied ground in an effort to climb to his feet and reach his nephew, but pain had crippled him and he fell back against the rocks, his eyes rolling into the back of his skull.

His cries, however, had not gone unheard.

Fili, the elder of the two brothers, hearing his uncle's cries, had turned sharply after killing an orc to see his baby brother standing there amongst the dead. At first he thought nothing. Then to his horror, his brother dropped to his knees.

The older dwarf panicked. He ran through the battle field as fast as his small legs could carry him, hacking and slashing at orcs and wargs as he passed. He had somehow managed to reach his brother just as Kili's body was falling back, and was able to drop to his knees to cushion the young dwarf into his arms as he fell.

Fili looked over his brother's grave wounds and shut his eyes for seconds, though what seemed like hours. The younger looked up at his brother as he lay there in Fili's lap with his head of dark chocolate hair matted down by rain and blood pillowed in his brother's arms. "F-Fili…?" A single tear had escaped from the corner of Kili's left eye, and had mixed together with the dried blood coloring his pale skin.

The older brother opened his eyes and looked down into his brother's face. "I'm here, Kili." He watched his brother's chest rise, watched the arrows move with it, and could only imagine what sort of damage they had done. "You're going to be alright." He softly caressed his brother's cheek, spinning a lie so wonderful that even he had believed it.

"T-Thorin…" Kili's voice choked in his throat. "Uncle… is he alright?"

Fili looked up from his brother's body and saw their uncle laying unresponsive not more than a few feet from their position. It was difficult to tell whether Thorin still lived; Fili saw no obvious signs of life. His chest tightened. But looking back down at his brother, he decided a lie would be better. "He's fine."

Kili attempted to move but the crippling pain burning in his chest forced him back into his brother's arms. He coughed violently, a few spittles of blood coming up from his lungs. Fili pushed back the flaps of his brother's tunic and armor to inspect the wound more closely. The arrowhead buried itself deep within Kili's chest and from the looks of it, had pierced something vital.

Kili gave a lighthearted smile. "It's bad isn't it?"

"No."

"Take it out." He pleaded. "Please. It hurts. I cannot breathe…"

Fili was hesitant but his baby brother's misty eyes had cried to him, and it was hard to ignore him. So Fili curled his fingers around the arrow and tugged at it slowly. Kili cried and whimpered and kicked his legs. He grabbed for his brother's arm and tightened his grip, digging his fingers into Fili's tunic. The elder dwarf loosened his grip on the arrow and pulled his hand back. He looked into his brother's face and saw nothing but pain. Terrible, burning, white hot pain.

He cradled Kili's head and smoothed the underside of his right thumb over his brother's chin. More blood erupted from the young dwarf's lungs. Followed by an insane amount of wheezing. Every time Kili had coughed, blood spilled out of his mouth. Fili's heart jumped in his chest. He tried pressing his hand against Kili's wound to staunch the bleeding only to feel his brother's heart thrumming against his palm.

"We have to get you back. The elves… they—" Fili fought back tears, trying to remain calm for the young dwarf in his arms. "—they can heal you."

Kili struggled to keep breathing but the more he did, the more the pain flared in his chest. "I'm so tired, Fili. Can't I—can't I just close my eyes? For a little while?" He could no longer feel his legs.

"No. You must keep your eyes open, brother."

Kili swallowed a glob of blood that had formed in his mouth only to start hacking and the same glob to come spitting back out onto Fili's face. "I'm dying… aren't I?" His eyelids fluttered, lashes blinking back tears after tears.

Fili's heart dropped into his stomach. While he knew the situation was grim, it hadn't exactly hit him at full force until he heard his brother's words and realized there was no lie he could tell that could comfort Kili now. Swallowing a small lump in his throat, the elder dwarf brother nodded. "Yes." A single tear moved down Kili's face, and Fili brushed it away.

"Fili?"

"Yes?"

"I'm scared."

Kili – prideful, stubborn, obstinate – was scared. And his brother couldn't recall a time his baby sibling had ever been reduced to such a state. Never. Fili was always on the lookout for his brother, always protecting him, always doing what he could to make sure his brother was safe; but he couldn't protect him this time, and it killed him. His heart was dying. His soul was dying. How could he protect Kili – his baby brother, the one he shared laughs with around a camp fire, the one who would always get them in trouble as youngsters – from death? He couldn't. Maybe that's what terrified Fili; he couldn't protect his brother from death.

And when Kili started crying, Fili knew that he had to swallow whatever fears and torments bothering him to comfort his dying sibling. He gripped his brother's hand as tightly as he could. "Keep looking at me. It's alright. Look, keep looking at me." When he was able to get his brother's attention, Fili smoothed a hand over Kili's forehead in a very consoling way, in a way their mother would have. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"You…you promise?" Kili asked, his voice trembling.

Fili nodded. "Of course. Just hold onto me. It will be all over soon." He continued rubbing his hand over his brother's forehead, and talking to him with a calm tone. He started thinking of other things that might comfort his brother and remembered listening to their mother's voice as she sung. Nothing was sweeter than her singing.

_Far over the misty mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep, and caverns old_

_We must away, at break of day_

_To find out long forgotten gold_

Kili looked past his brother's head, to something more invisible, more inevitable. Everything blurred together to create something of a different picture. That picture was fading fast. His eyelids were feeling heavier and his breathing grew more labored. Fili knew he was dying, but he had to finish.

_The pines were roaring on the height_

_The winds were moaning in the night_

_The fire was red, it flaming spread_

_The trees like torches blazed with light_

Kili's grip on his brother's hand went slack. He took his final breath and his chest went still. Fili could no longer feel his brother's heartbeat, and knew his brother was dead. He gathered his brother's body into his arms and sobbed into Kili's shoulder.

The battle raged on behind him. He kissed his brother's brow then laid him down on the ground. Grabbing his sword, Fili stood up and faced the oncoming onslaught of orcs with murderous intent in his eyes and a sneer about his lips.

"Come and get me."

* * *

This had been an idea I had in mind my after reading a few fanfictions of Kili and Fili's death. It has been many years since I've read The Hobbit so I honest to god don't remember much of anything from the book. I should start reading it again.

This is my first Hobbit fic. Hell, it's my very first LotR fic and I've been on this site since 2006. I do hope everyone liked it. My purpose was to make it as angst as possible. Please feel free to leave comments. I literally stayed up just to finish this. Now I go to bed!

:)


	2. Chapter 2

**Safeguard**

Dis stood in front of the fireplace with her fingers curled around a tiny portrait, and her hands in fists pulled tightly to her chest. Her green eyes stared ahead of her at the painting hanging above the mantle, one of the few things to have survived the taking of Erebor, and the reclaiming of Moria. It was a priceless family heirloom passed down through generations; not something she ever would have given up lightly. But that of which she held against her heart meant just a little more to her.

Her sons were summoned to war. It was of Thorin's decision to retake their lost kingdom, and his wish that his nephews accompany him with eleven others of his finest. It had been a heated verbal argument between the siblings but in the end, Thorin was her king regardless of relation to him.

"…_they're just BOYS, Thorin!"_

"_No they're not. They are full grown, sister. You cannot expect to protect them forever.- " _Dis closed her eyes and a tear escaped from under her lashes. _" –Erebor is their home…"_

Wrong. Erebor was never their home. Neither had been born when she lived there with her brother, her father, and her grandfather. Fili was born in the Blue Mountains and Kili – oh, her youngest and most innocent – had been born in a nighttime raid of orcs and goblins. They knew nothing of Erebor, save for stories told by their uncle and songs sung to them as they lay in their beds. Maybe they never needed to see the old kingdom to know it had existed, or feel some kind of connection to it. The only thing thinking about Erebor brought to Dis was images of dwarves she would never see again; grandfather, Thror, father Thrain, brother Frerin, husband – all dead. She had more reason than most to be fearful of her sons leaving her to fight this war.

While the initial shock had worn off her, the echo had still been there. Her heart was still hurting. And the only thing she could think of to help her was that small portrait she held against her chest and the one she prayed to hanging over the mantle. Somewhere between prayers and words, a hand had come up to rest on her shoulder. Dis looked back and her brother stood there, only a few inches above her, with his hair in waves spiraling over his shoulders; and only a few grey strands that were dwarfed by that rich head of brown hair.

"We leave in the morning, Dis," he told her, voice as calm as his posture.

Dis clasped her hand over Thorin's. "What of the boys? Where are they?" She asked, obvious distress in her voice. She had relinquished her heart to the dark knowledge her boys were going into the lion's den, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

"In their room making the final preparations." Thorin understood the hesitation and desperation in his baby sister's voice and wanted so much to give her comforting words. He sighed, his heart heavy. "They will be safe, Dis. I promise. I will look after them as if they were my own sons for I know what they mean to you and have always known since I held them as wee babes."

"Thank you, brother."

Thorin felt a smile come to his lips. "Always."

He brushed a tear from his face then gathered his sister to him. Dis buried her head in Thorin's chest, taking in some comfort and reassurance at the sounds of his breathing. As her elder brother, he felt it was always his job to protect her. How he wished he could do more for her now. His fingers combed through her dark hair. What she didn't see was the tear that had escaped from under his eye and snaked down the side of his face.

* * *

Thorin awoke with a start, gasping for air. The dwarves Balin and Dwalin were at his side within seconds with the elder of the brothers sitting on their king's right. The white haired dwarf raised a hand to Thorin's forehead and smoothed his ruffed up, calloused palm over the younger dwarf's clammy flesh.

"Easy, Thorin," the dwarf coaxed, as if speaking to a child, "just breathe."

He put his hand on Thorin's chest and continued talking to him in a soothing manner. To him, Thorin was just a child, and sometimes he took the blame of treating the younger dwarf as such. He was far older than him and much worldlier experienced than Thorin was. He sometimes thought of the younger dwarf as a son, for he never had children of his own and Thorin was the closest thing to family that Balin had next to Gloin and his nephew Gimli.

When Thorin calmed, Balin smiled. "There you are." His face took on a mellower, serious tone when he looked back at his brother. "Get me more blankets. He's freezing."

"F-Fili… K-K-Kili… " Thorin muttered. And Dwalin was off.

Balin continued stroking the younger dwarf's forehead. "Shh. Hush now. You're safe."

"The boys… " Thorin's voice cracked. "Where are my boys?"

* * *

They were found together on the battle field, amongst the rain and the mud, hand in hand. Bofur fell to his right knee if front of the brothers and felt where he had hoped to feel a pulse or two thrumming against his fingers, there was nothing. He hung his head sadly, hardly hearing Gloin's heavy footsteps running up from behind until he was within inches of them. Bofur lifted his head and looked over his shoulder as the red-bearded dwarf approached further, and then came to a halt. Bofur had a sad frown carried on his lips and Gloin knew the princes were gone.

He started walking closer to them and finally looked over Bofur's shoulder. His heart clenched tightly in his chest as he looked down at the boys, arrows protruding from their bodies at neigh impossible angles. They were young still and reminded him of his own son back home.

"They died together… " His words hung low in his voice, and carried with them a great sadness. Being a father himself, seeing them like this hurt his heart in too many ways.

Bofur smoothed a hand over Kili's damp and pale forehead. "And alone." He sighed; taking a very small comfort that Kili would be reunited with the father he never knew.

* * *

For the second time that afternoon, Thorin held his sister's hair back as she bent down on her knees over a large basin and expelled her stomach contents. He pined for her. He had seen what being pregnant with Fili had done to her but the situation surrounding that had been different. The new babe and the stress of losing her husband had made this pregnancy more stressful on her. And poor Fili was far too young to understand any of it. He still didn't know about the babe in his mother's belly nor, for that matter, had her husband.

As Dis finished, Thorin handed her a cloth to clean herself up. The woman stood on her feet, wiped her mouth off and tossed the spoiled cloth into a small hamper of clothing. Since leaving Erebor, the royal siblings had to learn how to fend for themselves and literally do everything they had never done before.

Dis walked out of the bathroom with her brother behind her. Five year old Fili, who had been playing on the floor with a pair of wooden horses his uncle carved for him, looked up at his mother. With a smile, he jumped to his feet and abandoned the horses in favor of running towards his mother. Dis saw her child and smiled, forgetting for a moment the fact she should be in mourning. But the child, who had no concept of death, would never understand. For her son, she smiled and gathered him into her arms.

"Are you okay, mummy?" the small child asked.

"Yes," she answered, in such a way that wouldn't invite too many questions. Dis took her son over to a large couch by the window and sat down with Fili in her lap. The child scooted closer to his mother's body and Thorin walked over to join them. "Fili, do you know what a baby is?"

"Me?"

Both Thorin and Dis laughed.

"Yes, darling. You are MY baby. But, how would you feel about another baby in the house?"

Fili blinked and looked at his uncle. "Are you gonna make mummy a baby? Like you made me my horses?" His innocent eyes glistened.

"Not exactly, Fili." The dwarf king reached for his nephew's hair and combed his fingers over it. "Your horses would crafted from wood. Babies come from mummies bellies." Thorin looked up at his sister.

"Fili..?" Dis drew her son's attention again. "Mummy is having another baby. You are going to have a baby brother or sister to play with."

The young dwarfling's eyes lit up. "I'm gonna be a big brother?" He looked between his mother and his uncle, both nodding. The excitement in his tiny body rose. He squealed and threw his arms around his mother's neck and kissed her cheek. Dis hugged her son while Thorin stroked his hair. Then Fili lowered himself down on the couch and placed kisses on her abdomen. "Hi baby. I'm gonna be your big brother!"

Dis smiled at her son then lifted her head and looked at her brother. Through her smile, she carried a heavy loss with it. Her smile slowly faded replaced with a tightening frown. And a tear fell down her face. Thorin raised his hand to brush it away then leaned forward and placed a kiss on his sister's brow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I have to thank everyone who reviewed this far. I really do appreciate it. I realize a lot of people have done BoFA stories but I really wanted to try my hand at writing it. I've already been told it's the best BoFA on the site, according to Italian Hobbit, who is seriously awesome by the way. Her Race Against Time fanfiction is very good and full of Kili angst. What can I say... everyone loves torturing their favorite characters. When I'm through with this story, which may be one or two more chapters, I have other ideas I might play out.**

**Ciao! And as always, R and R! :) **

**Next of Kin**

The halls of Erebor bustled with excitement; elves, dwarves and men, those still standing and even those slightly injured but not enough to cripple them were rushing between the others, desperately attending to the wounded while also gathering together their dead. It was impossible to pick out just one person. Everyone blurred together in a collective group. And if they didn't, then it was the blood and mud that did them in. Somewhere in the middle of all this, a confused and dazed hobbit sat on the edge of a bed being tended to.

Bilbo had been unconscious through most of the battle but the throbbing pain in his forehead once he woke up was more than enough for him. The tiny creature had been lost amongst the hordes of elves and men and dwarves, orcs and goblins. Looking down at the battle field from a bird's eye view, there would have been no way to find him. Only by some miracle had someone even found him once things had died down. His small body was found buried under two dead goblins, their blood mixing with the red from a gash torn open above his right eye. Those who found him had thought him dead.

The hobbit barely looked anywhere else but to the dwarf cleaning his forehead and bandaging his arm. But he refused to look the dwarf in the eye. In his heart, Bilbo had felt guilty he hadn't lasted as long as he thought he should. Thorin would have considered him a coward.

Oin dipped a cloth into a small basin, rang out excess water and pressed it against Bilbo's forehead. The hobbit hissed at the slight brush of pain it brought. The wound stung something fierce. No doubt a concussion was involved in this. While Oin tended to him, Bilbo's eyes seem fixed elsewhere. Despite it being damn near impossible to single any one person out, he seemed to be looking for one in particular. And Oin knew this. He watched the hobbit's eyes bounce about, clearly unfocused.

The water in the basin had turned to a rusty brown by the time Oin was done. He checked the bandage around Bilbo's arm then left the hobbit sitting there while he tended to the others. He needed to know that everyone was okay even if that meant checking various rooms and asking about his company. He ended up running into quite a few of them, more than half being taken care of by dwarf and elf healers. He asked for Bofur and Gloin but got no response. Oin scoured the hallways, rounded corners and pushed his way through towering men. The old dwarf eventually reached the broken archway of Erebor where he watched the trickle of rain coming down from the rooftops.

There were still people coming in from the battlefield. He moved aside for them and looked at every single one of them but none of them were who he was looking for. However as he looked further past the rain drops, he saw a familiar sight; Bofur and Gloin both. Oin took a step forward but was stopped mid-step when he noticed the bodies that lay in his friends' arms. The dwarf's heart dropped. He froze there were he stood as Bofur and Gloin, carrying the bodies of Fili and Kili, closed in. Oin watched them walk past with a hardening in his chest. His eyes dropped to the faces of Thorin's nephews; cold and pale.

He turned to walk back inside with them and quickly met up with Balin somewhere outside of the room the hobbit was in. Bilbo looked up, curiously, and watched the exchange between the two dwarves. Something happened, then, in which Balin's face suddenly twisted and his head dipped towards his chest. Oin lifted a hand to Balin's shoulder then pulled the older dwarf into a tight hug. Something bad had happened, Bilbo told himself. He considered leaping down from the bed until Balin turned to look right at him. The hobbit quirked a curious brow. But it was not Balin who came back to him; it was Oin, who, when the dwarf walked into the room, looked at the hobbit with a sorrowful expression and Bilbo knew it was bad.

His voice cracked a little when he spoke. "W-Who?"

"The princes," Oin answered, his throat choking with sobs. "Fili and Kili."

He didn't know why but in that moment, Bilbo cupped a hand over his mouth as tears sprung to his eyes.

Dwalin met with his elder brother outside Thorin's room. Balin's eyes stung with tears when he told his brother about Fili and Kili. The younger dwarf looked at his brother with an almost distilled, expressionless face. Always the more stoic one of the group, he didn't know how he should react to this news that the Durin heirs had fallen. For that moment alone, life stopped for him. He knew the lads since they were wee babes, and even sat for them on numerous occasions when their mother just needed a break. This was too unreal. Dwalin could barely handle it. And seeing his older brother in tears hadn't made it easier for him. He brought a hand to Balin's shoulder. This didn't make sense. Shouldn't the older brother be comforting the younger? Not the other way around?

It was not long before Dwalin turned away from his brother, leaving Balin to compose himself before disappearing into Thorin's room. The dwarf watched his king sleep. He watched Thorin's chest rise and fall again and thought of how painful what he had to say would be. Balin's heart was in his stomach. He already knew Thorin was dying so telling the dwarf what fate had befallen his nephews would surely take him to the Halls of Durin much sooner. No, he thought. It was not something he could bring himself to do, no matter how painful.

Balin started to leave when Thorin's voice caught his attention. The older dwarf turned his head around to see that Thorin had woken. "I don't think I will live through the night, Balin. My wounds are too great." His voice was somewhere above a whisper but soft enough to be considered a hushed tone.

The older dwarf quite nearly lost his resolve then and there before realizing that he had to be brave for his friend, his king. "Shall I send for someone for you, my lord?" His forced his voice to remain calm, despite the fact his heart was furiously pounding his ribcage and he wanted to break down. But he couldn't. He was a dwarf of Erebor and they were strong headed, stubborn people. He would be damned if his own feelings were to change that.

"My nephews…" He said, his voice hoarse. "Are they okay?"

Damn you Thorin, Balin's mind cried to him. Quick, think of something. Anything. A beautiful lie was better than a painful truth and if he had to stay here any longer, he would lose what dignity he was trying to keep. So he came up with a lie. "They're resting but I'll be sure to tell them you called for them when they wake."

A tear fell down Thorin's face and it was hard to figure out whether or not he knew Balin was lying to him for the sake of sparing his feelings. But Balin knew. In his heart, he knew that his lie hadn't been that great and he saw that in Thorin's face, his king knew that as well.

"Bring Mr. Baggins in here," Thorin requested. "I need to see him."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"I…I must apologize, Burglar," the dwarf king managed though painful breaths and equally painful gasps of air. "I should never have dragged you into this."

Bilbo had looked down, for just a moment. "I dragged myself in, Thorin. I knew what I was getting myself into. You told Gandalf you wouldn't be responsible for my fate and you're right, you shouldn't be. You have nothing to apologize for, Thorin Oakenshield." He found that he had taken the dwarf king's hand.

Thorin's fingers closed around the hobbit's tiny hand. It dwarfed in comparison to his. "I only wish things had been different." He forced a smile. The dwarf king had found a great friend in the hobbit which is not something he would have assumed several months ago when first setting out from Bag End. In truth, he didn't agree with Bilbo coming along in the first place. But after the hobbit risked his life to save Thorin from the blade of an orc's axe, Bilbo hadn't just won the dwarf's respect but also his friendship.

Bilbo's heart clenched in his chest. Being with Thorin now, knowing what he knew about Fili and Kili, it was hard to keep his tears at bay. He knew about death but it somehow felt different when it involved his friends. He wanted so much to give Thorin some words of comfort for the sake of the dwarf's nephews but his little mind couldn't come up with anything past what was happening in the moment. So he gave Thorin's hand a light squeeze.

"Fili and Kili, they- " The hobbit started to speak, to say something about the young princes, but his voice fell as flat as it had before. His mind was a racing jack rabbit on an opened field.

Thorin's grip tightened. "I believe they fought bravely." Thinking about his nephews made him think about what he saw lost before he lost consciousness. It was Kili getting struck by an arrow. Thorin's heart tightened.

"I imagine they did."

"At least—" The dwarf king's breathing hitched in his throat. His chest spasmed. "At least they will join the rest of their family. Neither of them had the pleasure of meeting their grandfather and poor Kili lost his father several months before he was born. I was the only father he ever knew." The only reason Thorin hadn't completely broken down would probably be the knowledge he would be reunited with his family soon enough. But had it not been for the brief thought of his baby sister, he would have kept that resolve. Thorin's eyes leaked with tears. Bilbo brushed his friend's tears away. "Burglar, you must do me a favor."

"Of course."

"My sister, Dis… please tell her of my love for her. Tell her I'm sorry for everything."

"I can find her for you—"

Thorin shook his head. "No. I cannot bear to have her see me this way. I love her far too much to cause her more pain. Knowing her sons are gone is more than enough. I will not force her to see another brother die."

Bilbo nods, tearfully.

Thorin's breathing was becoming more labored. His consciousness was slipping away from him quicker than he imagined. He tightened his grip more on Bilbo's hand. "Farwell… my friend."

The dwarf king tilted his head away from the hobbit and looked at the ceiling. He started choking on something in his throat, his chest heaved and then all was quiet. Bilbo felt Thorin's life leave him. He reached his left hand up and closed Thorin's eyelids. Then the Halfling did something he hadn't done since he was a child. He cradled his head on the dwarf's chest and cried.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I've been thinking of writing a companion piece to this. So before I conclude this story, I'd like to thank those who read it and especially to those who reviewed. It does mean a lot to me so please continue to do so. I'll also try to be working on other Hobbit fics as well. **

**Funeral Pyres**

There were no smiles that day. No joyful thoughts. Nothing. For the line of Durin had ended with the deaths of Thorin and his nephews, and there would be no celebrating their victory. Tragedy had far outweighed the good. There in the field stood three pyres, and upon each one of them laid the last three heirs of Durin. Surrounding them were family, friends and those survivors of the battle.

Among those was Dwalin and his brother Balin. They held torches tightly gripped in their right hands and each moved up to the left side of the nephews. Dwalin reached into his pocket and pulled out two gold coins. He laid each one on Fili's eyelids. The elder of the two brothers had been laid to rest upon the pyre dressed as he had been slain; everything but the arrows intact. His dead hands clutched his sword to his restful chest. They had saw fit to clean him up and re-tie his golden braids.

Less than a few feet from him, Balin placed two gold coins on Kili's eyelids. Then his hand fell to the young man's pale forehead and his thumb graced the prince's brow line. Even in death, the dwarf prince looked so peaceful and calm. Like Fili, Kili's body had been cleaned and redressed and his black hair combed out. Despite people saying otherwise and some knowing otherwise, Kili looked every bit like Thorin in every way. Some mistook the boy for Thorin's son and every time someone would say something of the sort, the dwarf king hardly corrected them. Balin suspected that it made Thorin proud to think of Kili as a son.

The young prince's precious bow had been laid out on his chest, his cold fingers curled around the grip of the weapon. It still amazed him that Kili had chosen a bow; no other dwarf ever had, and it wasn't a skill any dwarf had been taught. Balin reached into his pocket to pull something else out. It hadn't been more coins but some kind of small photo. He tucked it between Kili's hands then kissed the prince's brow. Stepping back, he lowered the torch to the wood and let it ablaze.

Drawing in a sigh, Dwalin lowered the torch to the pile of wood under the funeral pyre. The dry bark caught instantly. He barely looked away from the flames to see Balin do the same. He took a step back as the flames grew bigger and slowly engulfed Fili's body.

He joined the others soon enough, choosing to stand by his brother's side. He watched with a heavy heart as the flames of the three pyres rose higher and higher until completely shielding the bodies they burned. Balin looked up as his baby brother and noticed the sorrowful look in Dwalin's eyes. He frowned then reached for his brother's hand. Dwalin did not resist when his brother took it.

From their right, Bilbo looked up at them with tears in his eyes then looked to where the bodies burned. He took a moment to look among the dwarves who stood by him. Some of them had their head bows in prayer and then there was Bofur who held his hat over his heart. Finally, he realized the full weight this loss had carried. He looked back to the three pyres and the flames which consumed them. Suddenly a hand had come to settle on his shoulder. Bilbo looked up to see it had been Gloin, who too had tears in his eyes and some dried onto his cheeks. The hobbit forced a smile then looked back to the burning pyres.

* * *

It was in the wee hours of the morning when the fire finally died into nothing but plumes of smoke. The pyres made of wood had burned themselves to the ground and the bodies of Thorin Oakenshield, Fili and Kili were nothing but ashes. The dwarves liked to think their friends had found peace in the Halls of Durin at least, finally reunited with all of their family. It gave them comfort to think about that. But there was still one person yet that they hadn't visited.

Dwalin dismounted his pony and walked with his brother through the brush to a single grave site with a stone marker and a name carved into it. He came down to his knees in front of the marker and exhaled slowly. But a majority of the marker had been covered over by moss and twigs and dirt. Dwalin reached forward and brushed all of it off, clearing away what remained to uncover what lay underneath.

Bilbo had not been far behind when the muck had been pushed off and he saw the name in the stone. His eyes widened slightly as his heartbeat quickened. The name of Thorin's sister, the one he talked about not wanting him to see him in such a state before he died. The hobbit quickly realized it had been the torture of death that prompted Thorin to speak of his sister. In fact, nothing that in the past had happened; it had all been in Thorin's head, how it all turned out the way it did.

_Dis, daughter of Thrain, sister of Thorin Oakenshield, mother of Fili and Kili_ the stone marker read. Dwalin bowed his head and his brother had put a hand on a muscular shoulder. Under the weight of his heavy hand, Balin felt his brother's body tremble. He looked down as he heard what sounded like loud sniffles. Dwalin had started crying. The younger of the two, realizing his brother was there, and the hand on his shoulder, reached up and closed his own hand on top of it.

"We promised her, brother… " Dwalin nearly whispered through barely parted lips. "We all promised her the boys would be safe. All three of them. And we… we failed her." The dwarf lifted a hand to cover his eyes but more and more tears leaked through onto his face until his body was racked with nothing but sobs that wouldn't stop.

Balin gave his brother's shoulder a squeeze. He had never seen Dwalin like this before and it pained his heart to see his brother like this now. He wished with all his being that he could take away his brother's pain. But there would be no words he could say that would offer his sibling comfort. These coming days would be darker than most for the dwarves of Erebor and without their beloved king and friend by their side, they feared all would be lost.

**Second Author's Note: I know this final chapter is much shorter than the rest but considering this is a tragedy/angst fic, I couldn't very well leave it on a GOOD note now could I? I hoped y'all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Nothing is sweeter than the taste of angsty fanfictions. MUAHAHAHA!- *runs from the pitchforks***


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